A Study in Randomness versus Unpredictability
by Slash4Femme
Summary: Stars and numbers. And not all who wander are lost.


_This is a work of fanfiction based on the tv show Numb3rs. It takes place after my story And There You Will Be, as sort of a sequel if you like. The entire biology building including the study corner is designed after the actual biology building at Washington and Lee University in Lexington Virginia. I also highly recommend listening to the song Ever the Same by Rob Thomas while reading this story, since that was what I was listening to while writing. Incidentally credit goes to HouseWilsonShipper for originally linking the song with Larry/Charlie which I think works beautifully. I do not own anything I do not make any money, the only thing I get out of this is the warped enjoyment of my own imagination. _

_You said it for my sake, that I would not loose my way when I was astray__. _-The Fray

_Come up and see me, make me smile_-Steve Harley & Cockney Rebel

Soundtrack: Ever the Same-Rob Thomas

1.

Sometime Charlie forgets.

When he's working on a case or a theory he forgets to eat and sleep. He forgets there's a world outside of math, and maybe he should pay just a little bit more attention to what Don or his father is saying. Sometimes he'll go out shopping and start thinking of a particular problem on the way and by the time he gets to the store he's totally forgotten what exactly they needed.

He forgets people sometimes too. Forgets that they take time and attention, forgets that if you don't give them both of these things they have a tendency to leave. It's too easy to take everyone around him for granted. Too easy just to assume they'll always be there. In some ways it's too easy because it's true. His brother and his father will ways be there but that doesn't mean he can't still hurt them even when he's not try to. Other people though, just leave. All his girlfriends left, for lots of different reason but mostly because Charlie would sometimes forget, and after he'd forgotten enough times they'd be gone.

He forgets Larry sometimes too. He always has, getting wrapped up on a problem or theory. Larry's always been good at gently reminding him, though, letting him know there are other people in the world, not just Larry, but Don and Alan too. Now though, now he has extra reasons to feel horrible when ever he forgets about Larry, even though Larry still never holds it against him. Larry forgets thing too, but never people, Charlie envies that.

2.

He isn't really hiding; at least that's what he tells himself. It's an alcove at the end of a hall in one of the biology buildings. Benches with soft cushions have been built into the walls which are all windows looking down onto an abandoned portion of grass while the opposite wall is just one long stretch of chock board with a round table in the middle of the little space. The perfect study getaway. There are places like these all over campus and he's known about all of them since he was student here. This one's his favorite though, at the back of the building where no one goes far enough from his own department that if he bumps into anyone they wont really know him, plus he likes the windows and the sunlight they let in. It feels calm, clean, quiet and safe in a way only academic building on a college campus have ever felt to him, no matter how hard he tries to bring it home and make his house feel the same way. This is his space, academia is his space, at least here there are rules he understands, most of the time.

He's been there for several hours, and he's already filled up part of his notebook and the chock board. Everyone seems to have gone home because it's been a while since anyone has walked down the halls or the stairs. Which is fine, the less people around when he's working, the better. As if on cue foot steps sound, coming down the stairs to this particular level of the building. He ignores them, assuming some student is doing extra work in the biological anthropology labs that happen to be located on this floor quite close to his study spot. The footsteps stop, too close by to be an anthropology student and he looks up. Larry stands at the end of the hallway where the study corner begins, watching Charlie, gently tapping the tips of his steepled fingers together in a nervous habit he's had for as long as Charlie's known him.

"Hey."

Charlie says then looks down at his work for once hoping that Larry will go away and leave him alone for a little while longer.

"Hey, yourself."

Larry moves into the study space a little.

"I was thinking about making spaghetti for dinner tonight. Alan brought over some lovely tomatoes and it would be a shame to waist them."

Charlie doesn't respond just keeps looking at the notebook of equations open in front of him. Larry comes fully into the little study space and settles himself done a foot or so from Charlie on the bench.

"I can see your working on a project."

Larry's voice was gentle, yet insistent.

"And it is no doubt an important and quite interesting endeavor but it might be time to start thinking about coming home, Alan and Don are coming over for dinner."

Charlie's head snaps up at that, he's totally forgotten they are having dinner guests. Yet he doesn't want to leave, he isn't ready yet to break the spell of quiet contemplation, the security that came from there being only him and the numbers.

"Charlie."

Larry's voice is quiet the feeling of his hand on Charlie's arm not jarring or unpleasant. Charlie looks up, and, for the first time in what feels like forever, really looks at Larry. The late afternoon sunlight touching his hair, playing over his face, drawing out the fine lines starting to appear at the corners of his eyes, the shadows cast by the folds of his clothes, the way his shirt opened a little at the collar. Charlie leans forward and kisses Larry slowly and softly, tasting his lips letting his tongue gently sweep across Larry's bottom lips until Larry's mouth opens just enough. Larry's arms come around him, cupping the back of his head and pull him closer.

"Thank you."

Charlie's voice is not quite steady and he doesn't let go of Larry.

"For what?"

Larry's voice isn't really steady either and his fingers wander to Charlie's collar where he traces gentle patters on the sensitive skin of the younger man's neck.

"For being here, for keeping me on track, for loving me."

Larry's hands moves gently tilting Charlie's face up claiming his lips again. Charlie closes his eyes letting himself become lost in how gentle and right, Larry's lips feel against his. Larry isn't the best kisser Charlie had ever known but Charlie could think of very few things that brought him more joy then kissing Larry, being close to Larry. They finally pull away from each other and Charlie takes Larry's hand between his.

"Come on, spaghetti sauce won't make itself."

3.

"You don't understand? I have other responsibilities other people rely on me."

Charlie is yelling and he knows it, but he just can't seem to stop, just like he can't seem to keep his hand from shaking.

"And these equations . . ."

He gestures wildly to the blackboards surrounding him.

"They're complicated, they don't just write themselves."

"I know Charlie, I know."

Don's voice is pitched only slightly lower then Charlie's, almost yelling as well.

"But there are people who rely on me too and this isn't just one of your classes Charlie, this is a boy's life that's at stake here. I need those equations. I need to know this,"

He too gestures to the garage filled with Charlie's work.

"This is your first priority."

"Don,"

Charlie's voice is almost pleading, he needed time, he needs space, seeing death has always affected him, Don knows that. He just needs some time the clear his head, to drive away the images of human suffering to remember the numbers again.

"Don, you don't understand there are other things. . ."

"Damn it Charlie!"

Don's fist hits the table causing the cup of pencils and markers to jump. There is a moment of silence between them, then Don sighs looking down at his hand wear it still rests on the table, the next time he speaks his voice is noticeable calmer.

"I know, I know this is hard for you these cases, I know it's hard, Hell it's hard for all of us when this stuff gets personal, but we're running out of time, this kid is running out of time and we need this equation, we need it now."

Charlie too looks at the table gently tapping the tips of his steepled fingers together a nervous habit he seems to have picked up from Larry without realizing it.

"Ok Don, I'll try."

Don nods and Charlie can see the strain and exhaustion move across his bothers face. Then Don squares his shoulders, and heads back out to his car and the FBI office, and Charlie knows he's not the only one who won't be sleeping tonight. On his way by Don squeeze his shoulder and Charlie fights the urge to lean into his older brothers touch, to hear Don say that everything was going to all right, like when they where young, but they're grown now and Charlie knows that sometimes not everything is right.

Its hours before he finishes the equation, computerizes it, and puts it on a disk before heading for the FBI. Luckily though after that everything goes very quickly, and finally the door to his house closes behind him. Charlie leans heavily against it, before sighing, and finally, finally heading to bed. It's got to be about eight o clock in the morning but he doesn't care only falls into bed and is asleep almost immediately.

He wakes to find Larry lying fully clothed on the bed beside him gently rolling a pear between him palms alternating between considering it and the ceiling. At the moment Charlie didn't think he'd ever seen anything more beautiful.

"Charles have you ever wondered how much time a object occupies?"

Larry is cut off when Charlie kisses him, hard and demanding. Their lips playing together, Larry allows Charlie in Charlie's tongue fully exploring the older man's mouth. Somewhere along the way they move and Larry's pear is forgotten. Somewhere Charlie's fingers end up tangled in Larry's hair gently stroking the back of his neck, as Larry's own fingers begin to remove Charlie's shirt. Charlie's hands ran up and down Larry's arms, while Larry's mouth maps down the length of Charlie's neck.

Charlie's body shudders and shakes as Larry's fingers slowly trace complex geometric patterns across his chest down his stomach. He can't breath can't think, still sleep deprive and slightly hung-over feeling from days without sleep, days of having his nerves wound too tight. Larry's mouth has joined his fingers gently tracing patterns elegant and precise. Patterns Larry can see beauty in and Charlie only knows as numbers, streaming out, calculating themselves against his skin. There are stars in these patterns the beginning of nebulas and universes, things that are Larry's, drawn out against Charlie's skin in slow paths of heat and desire running downwards. Number, Charlie tries to grab hold of, to calculate them, see them behind his eyes, as Larry's fingers gently trace tessellations around his navel. Then Larry's fingers dip lower gently pulling at the clothe of Charlie's boxers, the patterns against his skin continuing, Larry's mouth dipping down to join his fingers and Charlie's numbers behind his eyes vanish and all he sees is stars.

The numbers came back slowly, but other things remained, the feel of Larry's body against his own, the softness of Larry's hair against his face. Charlie thinks of getting out of bed, thinks of calling Don to see if he's gotten any sleep at all yet. He thinks of calling in to see how his students are doing since he's missed one or more of his scheduled classes. Beside him Larry moved slightly, pulling Charlie closer and Charlie thinks of stars, thinks of geometric patterns against bare skin, of the feel of the sheets against his body and Larry so close. Charlie thinks that maybe they didn't have to get out of bed quiet yet. Then he thinks of how much time a pear might indeed occupy and smiles.


End file.
